


Inception

by slyyywriting



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Coercion, Dark fic, Eventual Smut, F/M, Manipulation, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Violence, Possessive Steve Rogers, noncon, old disgusting politicians, steve rogers is a bastard, unwanted touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyyywriting/pseuds/slyyywriting
Summary: HYDRA used your powers to plant the idea in Steve Rogers head to corrupt him and have him join them willingly. The plan doesn’t work out and Steve is forevermore the world’s golden hero. But what they failed to see was that the idea of you still haunts Steve to this day so when he sees you in the flesh and out of his dreams, he never wants to let you go.
Relationships: Dark!Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: dark!content, mentions of suicide, mentions of violence, mental manipulation, subconscious manipulation  
> *Steve will be a dark character for this series. Reader is also a dark character. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with that.

The assignment was simple. You’ve done it a hundred times before. Usually it involved making your enemies or people that have wronged you kill themselves with vivid hallucinations in was hard for them to tell the difference between their dream and the real world. This time they’re telling you nobody dies and the payout was going to settle you nicely. You were going to be able to live and breathe in this city without having to worry about your next meal.

Some people contacted you after you killed their employee, a scumbag who forced himself on you. So when he fell asleep, you slipped into his dreams, deep within the crevices of his cracked psyche and planted the idea of him jumping in front of a moving train because he deserved to, because his life was over and the only way he’ll ever be atone for everything he has done was to kiss the front of a subway train on his way to hell. You thought the man’s employers were going to retaliate for killing one of their own but instead they offered you a job and money. Lots of money.

You’d said no. You wanted more than cash, you wanted security and you wanted a day job. You told them that you wanted a stable pay check deposited into your bank account every month and a one-time thing wasn’t going to cut it. You thought they’d back out but they didn’t. Two days later they were back with a bunch of documents and keys to a fully furnished apartment and a contract for a job at some foundation front they had for human trafficking.

You agreed and signed your talent away.

The briefing file sat on your coffee table as you lounged in your new couch in your very warm apartment. Your target was high profile. He was on every side of a city bus and on the front page of every magazine—Captain America. He was dug out of the ice and had saved the world already from both an alien invasion and a robot invasion. The golden beacon of hope, justice and good old American values, Steve Rogers, who was now leading SHIELD in fighting bad guys.

You swallowed hard. If you did this job it meant that you were siding with the bad guys. But they were providing you with everything you had ever needed and you knew that if you requested for more they’d agree in a flash. What had the Avenger ever done for you? You were barely surviving the streets of New York and you’ve been cold for as long as you could remember. Captain America wasn’t there when you were starving. Fuck, no one was there when you were lying almost dead next to a dumpster just a month ago.

You scoff. You hated how he looked in his photo in that file. He was always smiling for the cameras, was always so polite. You didn’t trust him one bit. No one is that happy all the time. No one was perfect. And you were going to swim right into the deepest parts of his subconscious to use whatever is tucked away in there to make him switch teams.

Hydra was going to deliver the man to you in a silver platter. All you had to do was touch him and insert yourself into his subconscious stream, plant the urge for him to join Hydra and then you’d be off living a comfortable life. Maybe even extend your powers into making yourself a permanent member of the organization.

When the window to put the plan into effect finally presented itself, you prepped for the impending meeting but did not expect the rush of it all.

“What do you mean I only have forty five minutes with him? That’s not enough time to make an idea stick in his mind!” you yell out at the man who only introduced himself as your Handler.

“Then you would have to go deeper than usual.” He responds, accent posh and condescending. “Isn’t it how this works? That’s how you made Mr. Jacob greet a speeding train without problem.”

“That was different. I did that in rage and I had been in his brain for six hours—“

“Are you saying you cannot do it?” the Handler shifts in his seat and the men behind him reach for their guns.

You sit back on the chair and cross your arms in front of you.

“I can. In one condition, the moment you leave this place, you will leave to me all of your possessions and shoot yourself in the face in front of the Senate during the hearing you will be attending in three days time.” You smirk and the man’s face turns confused.

“Why would I do that? You’re not the one who sets the conditions here, little girl.” He tells you as he makes himself look bigger. His jaw twitches as you remain nonchalant. He was starting to get nervous now.

“Because none of this is real and when you wake up you would’ve forgotten everything about our little adventure here except for the nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to push through with our arrangement.” You smile down at the man as you walk away from the table. “You’re going to save the whole organization. Hail Hydra!”

A shake stirs the room and the Handler starts to panic. Before he can do anything, he finds himself waking up inside a car as it pulls up in front of the Senate building. He is greeted by a swarm of people from the media as he climbs the steps to attend a hearing on the worsening case of human trafficking in Southeast Asia.

An hour later, his face is plastered all over news outlets. Your inception had worked perfectly, dangerously. You’d tested the forty-five minute window on him a couple days ago. Four layers deep into his psyche in such a short amount of time meant your planting would eat away at him both in a sleep state and a waking state.

Now, you’re ready for the big fish.

\---

_I need you to help me destroy them. They took everything away from me… from you… They took everything away from_ us _!_

_Our home, Steve. It’s gone now because of them._

_We will never be together… because of them._

_Join me here and together, we will watch their world burn to the ground and with their ashes we will build our new home._

_Steve! Come home._

Steve jolts awake. He’s soaked in sweat and his head is ringing. His breathing is loud in the silence of his bedroom. He removes the sheets sticking to his drenched skin and lands both of his feet into the cold floor. Shaky hands rub his face into the present.

His clock reads 4:02. It’s too early for his day to start but he doesn’t want to go back to bed. Not when she haunts him every time he sleeps deeply, peacefully, the image of her appears like a taunt. Like he will never know rest until he appeases her.

_Home. Come home to me, Steve._

Her voice echoes and latches itself into his brain. He shakes his head off of the thought of her and decides that he’ll run an extra hour this morning.

Steve runs past the Lincoln Memorial for the fourth time in the last hour but it doesn’t seem to erase the burning in his head. For the past three years he’d dreamt of her, her voice, her touches; and for the past three years she had haunted him. Whenever he did he felt out of sorts for a while. She was an itch that he couldn’t scratch, borderlining on reality and hallucination. He’d sketched her face a thousand times, scanned it into Stark’s system but nothing came about, more proof that she only existed in his mind.

Steve was too in on his own head that he fails to see someone crossing the path that he was on and decreases his speed too little too late, causing him to collide with whoever was just minding their own business.

A woman yells from the collision and she gets sent flying a couple of feet from where she was. Good thing Steve managed to wrap himself over her as they both land a bit harshly on the pavement.

“Are you alright, ma’am? I’m so sorry—“he starts to apologize profusely as he continues to cradle her with his right arm pinned under her mint fur jacket. He moves the fur to see their face but the sound of laughter greets him instead.

“I’m fine! I’m fine, really.” She answers mirthfully and continues to laugh. She sits up and Steve moves a bit away from her. Her image leaves him dumbfounded. “Are you okay?”

Steve stutters before he finally answers. He gets up and offers his hand, pushing down whatever emotion he was experiencing at the moment so he can properly function. But it was hard when your laughter caresses his ears and your smile was making his knees weak.

Your laughter dies down when you stand in your full height, in sky high heels no less, and crouch a little bit at the pain you feel on your right ankle. Automatically, Steve kneels before you and inspects your foot, asking permission to have your shoe removed before coming up to a conclusion.

“I think I broke your ankle when I crashed into you.” He looks up at you and tells you the news beneath his lashes. His bottom lip was protruding bit, a sincere gesture at how terrible he must feel for causing you injury. “I’m very sorry, Ma’am.”

“Maybe it’s just a sprain?” You tell him and ask him to stop referring to you as _ma’am_ , you had enough of that from work. He offers his name but you brush him off with a nervous chuckle, “I know who you are Captain Rogers.”

A man in a suit approaches the both of you, prompting the Captain to stand and cover you behind him. You tell him it’s alright and nod at the man, introducing him to the captain as your chauffer.

“I—maybe I should take you to the hospital?” Steve tries again, not wanting to leave you like this.

“Like I said, it’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine, thank you.” You respond almost unkindly, like you’re trying to get rid of him. You smile as you bid him goodbye but it doesn’t quite go all the way to your eyes. In the next minute, a car pulls up at the curb and then you were gone.

You’re seething as you slump in the backseat. Who would’ve thought you’d bump into your old target at five in the morning while crossing an empty street in DC? You had just left a party after pulling an all nighter, waiting for politicians and corporate moguls who drank to get sleepy enough so you can invade their heads with propaganda and sending monetary donations to the foundation you were still pretending to run. You left the event feeling good, accomplished.

That was until Captain Fucking America pummeled you into the pavement all because your stupid bodyguard couldn’t get a closer parking space. You looked at the dumbass and seethed even more. His incompetence had almost cost you your life and he wasn’t going to walk free from this.

“Frank, remember when you had that dream where you killed yourself because you disappointed me?” You remind him as you look out your window.

“Please, ma’am. It was a mistake, I—“ he tries to defend himself but you remain stoic.

“No, no Frank. None of the begging, I hate it when people beg to be spared when you all willingly agreed to it after I promised you all restful sleep and sinfully sweet dreams.” You huff a breath of air on the window and draw a smiley at the fogged up glass. “When you get home, you will do as you promised and all your dreams will come true.”

You turn and smile at the man. He avoids your eyes and looks straight ahead as tears run down his cheeks.

Steve on the other hand was in a rush to get into SHIELD headquarters that morning. He went straight to the surveillance hub and took over controls, typed in an address, a date and time before running every surveillance footage in the area. He keeps a neutral expression as he finds the exact footage and zooms into a familiar face. He takes a screen photo and sends it to his personal phone before running the image through the system.

“You’re here early.” Natasha Romanov’s voice startles the man a bit, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. Steve clears his throat and greets his colleague. Natasha moves closer to the screen and watches the system run a trace of a woman’s image. “Who’s she?”

“Collided into her pretty bad during my run this morning. Wouldn’t want a lawsuit over that so I wanted to find her and apologize before she finds our legal department.” He clears his throat again, he had never been good at lying and Natasha was excellent at telling if he was.

The red head rolls her eyes. That was such a lame excuse, she thought, even for Steve. But it has been a while since she’d seen him interested in anyone and she had been bothering him with blind date set ups.

“She’s wearing a vintage fur jacket, at least twelve thousand dollars worth and you made her roll it into the ground. If she wanted a lawsuit she’d have told you then and there.” She quips but pushes him aside to type something into the computer. After thirty seconds, it beeps and flashes all your details in the screen. “The ultra rich are good at keeping their information private. Looks like your girl might be a one-percenter.”

“Can you send those to me? I gotta go.” Steve bids her goodbye and rushes at the door.

“I already did! And tell your girl I said ‘hi’”. The spy yells after him as she erases any trace of the recent activity in the computer system.

He finally has a name to his girl’s face. _His girl._ Steve is giddy with joy as he heads down the parking area to drive over to where his girl works. It took him years to find her and now his dreams were coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes moves on his girl. She doesn't want the attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: unwanted touching, THIS IS A DARK FIC PLS HEED THE WARNING
> 
> Sorry for the super delayed update but I wrote this during scorpio season that's why it's dark. But after the season my brain went bloop and just idk left the building. Anyways, enjoy!

There was a commotion the moment your elevator doors opened. Usually your office would be in a flurry whenever a hurricane hits somewhere and the disaster took toll on the locals, displacing them, sweeping them away, the usual disaster fare. Your _foundation_ was in the front line for rescue and relief operations which gave Hydra access to countless people who would be declared missing or dead in the midst of a calamity. This was how you recruited for their army, this was how you kept your Hydra position top tier.

Unfortunately for you, there were no tropical storms in the radar and the only thing that the wind blew in was a two hundred pound super soldier, holding a bouquet of red tulips while surrounded by your employees. All of them were quite literally and figuratively looking up at the man as he patiently answered their question and politely nodded to agree with a selfie. He catches you looking at him amidst the crowd and smiles shyly at you. You nodded your head to acknowledge his presence then proceeded to your receptionist for your updated schedule, surreptitiously scouting all exit points on your floor in case that gurgling in your gut decided to make your fears come true.

You could try and escape through your office, out into that old balcony you only used for cigarette breaks when your day calls for one, climb out of it and slide down that pipe attached to the building. You could try and run down through the fire escape, fourteen flights of stairs would have been easier though if your ankle was not ballooning further by the minute.

You wondered what would happen if you shot _the_ Captain America in broad daylight, unprovoked and just minutes after people were gushing about him. No. You had to keep your cool. You didn’t even know why he was here in the first place. You had to stop acting like you were guilty of something and continue with the façade of being a philanthropic socialite.

Someone clears their throat behind you and by how your receptionist’s eyes morphed into two hearts you already know who it was. You tried to stay calm and continue shuffling envelopes in your hand before slowly turning your neck to briefly look at him.

“Come to push me into the ground again, Captain?” you tease him, the only way you could keep yourself from screaming really.

You hear a small gasp from some of your eavesdropping employees and a sputtering from the blonde bulk.

“I—it was an accident, Miss—I didn’t mean—“ Steve rubs the back of his neck with his left hand while the right one pushes the bouquet in front of him. The way your name rolled off his tongue made your blood grow cold.

“How’d you find me?” You cut him off, the venom in your voice minimal and hidden. “I don’t remember giving you my name or any of my contact information, Captain.”

“Well—I kinda… It’s—I came here to apologize and check to see if you’re okay.” He pushes the flowers towards you again as he stutters out an excuse. Things aren’t going as well as he’d thought they would.

You turn then and stare at the tulips. You could feel every eye in the room on you, expectant of your next move. You drop whatever it was you were holding and receive the flowers from him, making a show of smelling them. Unexpectedly, a shiver runs through you at their scent and you peek at Steve through your lashes. He was standing there like a bashful boy, like he was in a high school campus.

“Apology accepted!” you smile at him, sickly sweet and head towards your office. “Have a good day Captain Rogers.”

About three steps away from him you feel a hard grip on your arm making you stop in your tracks. You turn to face the owner of the grip and find two stormy blue eyes looking down at you. You couldn’t decipher whether he looked like he was about to eat you alive or beg you to run away with him. But Steve felt both and more. You were there and he was touching you.

You were soft under his fingers. Your skin warm and pliant in his hold. He had spent almost an hour at the flower shop trying to decide which flowers were best to bring to you until the old owner took pity on him and arranged the tulips on their own. And now you were trying to walk away from him like his presence was something that had no effect on you at all. Not like how you affected him.

His name escapes your lips and somehow he gets pulled into a dreamlike state. He’d dreamt of your voice a thousand times, had imagined your touch a thousand more and here you actually were.

His throat had run dry.

You yank your arm back with much effort as he blinks back into now, belatedly realizing how long he’d been holding onto you. You finally escape him the moment you close the doors to your office, leaning on the opaque glass until you hear his heavy footsteps recede. A shuddering sigh escapes your lips.

It was bad enough that you accidentally bumped into him earlier in the morning. Now he knows where you work. Who knows what else he knows about you. If he finds out what you were capable of, what you had done to him years before, your neck was on the line. It was time to get out of dodge and out of DC.

Days had started to pile up and so did the gifts that appeared in your office. Some days there were flowers, other days books you’ve been craving to read sat on your desk, afraid how the sender knew, then there were flowers. All of them filled you with dread as the card only told you to have a great day and signed by two letters.

S.R.

If the bombardment of unsolicited presents weren’t enough for Steve to haunt you, his constant presence everywhere you went was almost suffocating. His press conferences and after operation statements always flashed on television and took over news headlines in the paper. Not to mention the safety announcements all around the city were somehow required to be read in his voice. It was close to being in hell.

The original plan was for you to invade the good Captain’s thoughts well enough to have him shift sides. As luck would have it, the whole science experiment seemed to have immuned him from your powers and now he was the one invading your head space constantly.

A week had gone by since the last time you saw Steve Rogers and the niggling feeling at the back of your head had started to finally quiet down. You arranged your exit from the city and planned to work remotely if you had to. You even had a backup plan to fake your own death just in case.

Another charity event was in full swing. There were hands to shake, cheeks to smooch and asses to kiss. It was tedious but necessary. Before HYDRA no one would even bat an eye when they saw you struggling in the cold streets. You were just another urban statistic in a government sheet in some senator’s desk in DC. Now, you were giggling with these senators as you complimented their political prowess and they congratulated you in securing their cause. You were dancing to an old Sinatra song with some old croon when you felt a prickle of goosebumps run through your spine. You looked around the ballroom and tried to brush the feeling of someone watching you.

In the dimly lit corners of the room however, two cerulean eyes were fixated on your body. Steve was observing how someone else’s wrinkled, spotted hands were on you. He grits his teeth at the thought of you being touched by others, and if that wasn’t enough to punish him, lips whispered right into your ears to which you would respond with a hearty laugh, throwing your head back to expose your perfectly smooth neck.

As the music changes, someone clears their throat next to you.

“May I interrupt, Senator?” warm vibrations fill your ears at the voice.

“Captain! Of course our dearest here would catch your eye as well.” With the Senators response you suddenly grow cold and delay turning to the man he was speaking with. The man pats your hand before directly transferring it to the awaiting ones. “Take care of our esteemed guest, dear. She’s all yours, Captain Rogers.”

You clear your throat, feeling suddenly constricted. With a tight smile and a nervous chuckle, you finally face your guest. Steve’s presence was overwhelming the moment you paid attention to him, suit enveloping his muscles in a color that made his eyes pop and that charming all-American smile he was showing off nearly made your heart explode.

You exchange greetings and pleasantries just as the music starts again and the vocals of the singers croon. No conversation takes place as he slowly increases the weight of his grip on your skin, one hand in your own and on your waist. You’re suddenly cursing why you were wearing a dress that exposed your skin there, now you could feel his fingertips right through.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper, “I love you”_

_Birds singing in the sycamore trees_

_Dream a little dream of me_

“You look like a dream, doll.” Steve praises just by your ear as he sways you to the melody.

“T-thank you, Captain.” You croak back. Scanning the room for possible exits, smiling at the on lookers as they beam at you and Steve dancing, you slowly formulate an escape in your head.

“Relax, doll. Your shoulders are tense.” He comments, hot breath brushing your neck as he bends down to speak. His grip on your hand hardens and you wince slightly at the pressure. He pulls back and looks your directly in your eyes. “Nervous?”

The question is a sharp knife that twists in your guts. Why were you so blatantly nervous? He doesn’t know anything that you’ve done, nor will he ever know. You shake your head and exhale softly. When you inhale again, Steve’s scent invades your nostrils and your knees buckle slightly. He smelled so good. It was a warm and comfortable smell. The smell of home.

_Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams finds you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

Steve pulls you again toward him, this time no space between your chests kept you apart. As soon as you were starting to relax in his hold, he places his nose on the side of your neck and inhales sharply.

“I’ve always wondered how you would smell under me.”

“Excuse me?” you try to pull back but his grip is solid.

“How you would taste on my tongue—“

His grip increases, tightens and you can just feel the bruises that are forming in your skin. You stutter as you pull yourself off and away from him.

“Soon.” Steve says before he places a kiss on your forehead. The spot sears where his lips touched you and he finally lets you go. With your wits barely gathered you head for the restroom to compose yourself. You had to leave tonight.


End file.
